


Not A Hound

by Dexidoodle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Give Warnings, good luck, sansan, shit happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexidoodle/pseuds/Dexidoodle
Summary: Only he can save her. Will she think the price for her life is too high?Modern AU.





	1. Scenting the Air

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing something else...

There was the scent of blood in the air.

Blood... Pain and fear...

... and it wasn't from an animal.

He raised his nose to the wind and took a long draft of the scent, filling his sinuses and tasting it on his tongue. It was close. He took his bearings in the dense foliage around him, circling on the spot to find the correct direction and he quickly set off, placing his feet silently, disturbing nothing in his rapid passage.

The scent became stronger with each measured stride. It was a woman. His nostrils burned with the scent of estrogen and forget-me-nots. He increased his pace.

He knew that there was a little used hiking track further up the hill. He had been here for years and had only even scented about half a dozen people on the trail every year. The lake at the top of the mountain was a spectacle but the way was treacherous and steep. His brother had discovered that the hard way... it seemed that this woman had too.

He neared the edge of the treeline and it opened out into a narrow gully with a frigid stream meandering at the bottom. Here the scent was strong.

He let his eyes roam, normally the colour of the mountains stone, they flashed yellow and black as he sought some sign.

He saw the rock slide and let his eyes wander up the steep bank. The track was far up above him, he knew. At this point in the trail, it was an inadequate little ledge edging around a vertical rock face. It looked like the ledge had finally given way... it had only been a matter of time, he supposed. He saw with keen sight, wedged in an outcrop beneath where the ledge had been, a fluttering scrap of bright blue cloth. Further down, a smear of blood... broken and hanging branches on the hardy shrubs that clung to the very stones... and newly fallen scree was littering the small clearing and skittering into the gully and its stream below.

He stepped forwards to the edge of the gully and finally saw her. 

He leaped lightly into the cold water and made his way to her broken form. A pile of designer outdoor wear, a heavily laden backpack and vibrant red hair.

He edged closer to her body breathing her in, his ears pricked for signs of life; and there is it was, the light flutter of a heartbeat, the rasp of painfully drawn breath, the minuscule scratch of fingernails on stone as her fingers twitched on their own. She was alive... barely.

He fought the desire to run to her and turn her over, to cradle this unknown woman in his arms. Moving her could mean her immediate end.

And here was the crux of the problem. If he left her, she would die. If he moved her, she would die. He had no way of contacting anyone... not out here, even if he had some means. Cell phones didn't work, he didn't have a satellite phone or a beacon. He was out here to be alone, he needed none of that stuff anyway.

She must be an experienced hiker if she was up here in the hinterlands... she might have the equipment needed to save her own life. 

He unbuckled and unzipped her pack carefully, trying not to disturb her. He unloaded everything out onto the bank. Her cell phone was useless, there was not even the whisper of a signal. He found her beacon in the side pocket of her pack, it was in three pieces, another victim of the violent descent and impact with the ground. 

So that was it, she would die here.

He looked down on her crumple form sadly, hunkered down beside her and pushed her hair back from her face and gasped.

Even covered in dust and blood, scrapes and cuts digging into her delicate milky flesh, she was more beautiful than he could have imagined and she was also very young. He drew his rough thumb across her cheek and sighed, so very beautiful.

A feeling began to rise in him that he shrank from... It was abhorrent to even think it. He would be the worst kind of monster to even contemplate...

He'd been alone for so long though, too long... and she would die... She was just so very beautiful.

He pulled back from her, stumbling backwards into a deeper part of the stream and ran his hand over his face, suddenly conflicted.

If he did this she would live. If he didn't, she would die. If he did this, he would gain a beautiful, young mate. If he didn't, he would be leaving her body where it could be found.

He could save her. 

She would be unwilling.

It was selfish and cruel...

...

...

He found himself stepping back towards her, his need driving harder than his conscience. He lifted his wrist to his lips. He whimpered as he sank his teeth into his own flesh. He felt the hot tang of blood taint his tongue and felt hot tears drip down his tormented face.

He'd been so alone. 

He squatted by her side and hesitantly bought his wrist to her mouth, letting his blood slip between her lips and fill her. She swallowed on reflex and he sobbed softly, half hoping it was too late, that she had already passed as he'd deliberated. But that was not to be.

Her little pink tongue slid over her bottom lip to catch the rich ruby drops that continued to fall on her and she moaned softly. Her body began to move restlessly...

She'd hate him, he thought. He'd damned her.


	2. Sighting the Prey

She fell.

The ground had crumbled beneath her feet and she had fallen hard and fast. It was an odd feeling, having the ground disappear from beneath your feet. One seemed to hang in space for the barest of moments and in that spec of a moment, ones life truly did flash before ones eyes. Sansa was somewhat surprised that the life that flashed before her eyes was not really her own.

She saw her life up until now, lived not for herself but for her family and for Harry.

Her family raised her an obedient lady and then had bartered for her to wed young... her young life was merely an extended training session in the ways of duty.

Harry had been an adventurer in the making. He had wanted to do so many things. He had a long list of things he had wanted to do and places that he had wanted to see. If he saw a picture in a magazine or on a website of a remote looking mountain tarn or a single joshua tree in an unknown desert, he immediately wanted to see it. He researched to find out where these places were and wrote them all down in his journal.

The list was long and varied; ranging from hole in the wall restaurants in exotic, bustling cities to tiny isolated bungalows on lonely tropical beaches to frozen tundras populated by folk who lived in huts made of ice.

Harry never did any of the things on his list.

Rather, Harry was a fastidious worker bee. Wealthy beyond words but consumed with the need to acquire more.

Sansa had married him because it was expected. The wealthy married the wealthy. Great families married great families. To be honest, they were more business mergers than marriages. Harry managed the business of business and she managed the business of image.

In truth, it was a cold and lonely existence... even when the two of them were together, it was in the public eye and it was all for show. They actually lived apart and with the exception of their honeymoon years past (in which she had found him fucking one of the housekeeping girls) they did not have sex.

When Harry passed suddenly of a drug induced heart attack whilst engaging two of his young interns on the boardroom table of Hardyng Enterprises, she had dutifully tidied up the mess in the media, held her head high in public and continued presenting the front of grieving and still loyal, widow.

It was when she was clearing out Harrys desk for the incoming CEO that she had found Harrys Journal.

She had sat on the floor of his nearly empty penthouse office and flipped through the thick book. There were little pictures cut and glued with hand written locations. She looked through the whole book and then flipped back to the beginning again. It was so innocent and endearing... so very unlike the man himself.

Sansa discovered that evening, to her surprise, that she was also an adventurer in the making and while sitting on the floor in a luxurious but sterile office, staring at a picture of a lonely mountain lake at sunset, Sansa Stark-Hardyng decided to run away from home.

She had no one to answer to, certainly not the family that sent her on her way South and then promptly forgot about her... unless there was a photo opportunity. So, she simply packed a meager bag and bought a one way ticket and boarded a plane. She was going to live Harrys dream, she was going to take it and make it her own.

She had found herself in a strange city... a strange town.. a strange village, beach, river, nightclub... each new episode of 'strange' filled her heart a little more and warmed away a bit of the cold.

And then she decided to try a something a little more challenging. Page one of Harrys (now Her) journal was a lonely little mountain lake. The Gods Eye. When she had looked it up, she discovered it was a three day trek for experienced hikers and then one had to walk all the way back again. But, how hard could walking truly be?

She went to an up-market outdoor store and with the help of a salesman who saw a weighty commission a mile away, bought all that he assured her she would need for a six day hike in the mountains.

How hard could it be...?

Well... on day two...

She fell.

Crashing down a mountainside like a mini avalanche in light blue polypropylene, hitting outcroppings of solid rock and shrubbery prickled with inch long thorns with bone shattering and skin tearing force...

***

She woke with a start; sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and her heart thudding erratically in her chest. She felt strange. She couldn't put her finger on why.

She let her eyes make their way around the small room that she was in as she fought with her breath, trying to calm the gusts billowing from her lungs. The dark stole the details away from her. A dark room. A dirty window that showed that it was night outside and there was the faint outline of a doorway.

She put her hand to her chest, feeling the heavy pounding of her heart. She had fallen. She remembered distinctly the feel of the bone in her right arm snap when it made contact with a crumbly shelf of schist. The very arm which was attached the to the hand that she now held to her chest... She looked down at her arm in confusion. She had fallen? Right?

There were jagged and bloody tears in the sleeve of her polyprop top, the blood long dried, but her arm was intact. It ached, that much was true but there was not other sign of the break that she knew had occurred. She ran her finger tips gingerly over the rest of her body. She felt battered about but... by all rights she should be dead?

Shouldn't she?

and where was she?

Why did she have the thick, metallic taste of blood on her tongue?

She carefully swung her legs over the side of the big cot that she had been lying on, grunting softly at the twinges of pain in her belly.

"You shouldn't move yet." A deep growly voice vibrated through the air from the corner of the small room. She gasped and whipped her head in the direction of the sound. Her neck protested at the sharp movement and her brain throbbed. The area was swathed in shadow but as she squinted, she could make out the faint glint of light on a pair of eyes.

"Who's there?' She whispered, trying to keep the fear from her voice but knowing that the stink of it permeated the air.

"Found you..." The voice rumbled darkly, "Healed you..."

Whomever he was, he sounded like he rarely used that grating voice. It sounded dusty and raspy in his throat.

"I... ah..." Sansa stuttered shifting back on the cot. "ahh... Thank you, sir, for helping me. Where am I and may I have your name so I know to whom I am indebted?"

"Clegane's my name." The shadows said, "But I don't need your thanks or your sirs." The was a humphf and the sound of him shifting. He leaned forwards, the dim light catching part of his face, just a small portion of his forehead littered with long dark hair and eyebrow, a dark eye beneath. "You're in my home... my bed.. about half days walk from where I found you."

His accent was the lilt of a Westerman she realised, hard to discern with the dark rasp that accompanied it.

"You should sleep some more." He said, leaning back and merging with the dark once more. "Sun-up's still a couple of hours away."

Sansa sat still for a while longer before painfully laying down again with a grimace.

***

When she awoke again, it was to the bright morning sunlight spilling through the inadequate window and spearing directly into her eyes. It was blinding even with the thick layer of grime on the glass and the veil of dust motes that hung suspended in the still air of the dark little room.

She drew her hand up to shield her eyes and stopped dead.

She sat up in a rush and began to grope about her body. She had no pain. No twinge of broken bones, no throb and sting of bruising or cuts... not even a dull headache.

How could that be?

How long had she been asleep in this little room?

Weeks?

It had to have been that long to have healed completely... surely.

She quickly directed her gaze to the corner of the cabin and sure enough, crouching in the shadows was the man, Clegane.

Had he moved at all? How long had he been there just watching over her?

He sat back on his haunches like some great beast, the knuckles of one hand resting on the gritty floorboards. He watched her still, with those dark eyes glinting back at her from the dark recess.

Had he truly been sitting there the whole time?

She gazed back at him, breathing in to speak... to offer a morning salutation but she was stifled...

There was a scent in the air, pungent and thick.

It struck a cord deep within her, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck and sprouting goose flesh on her arms. She tried to slow her breathing, take in shallower breaths to combat it but it stirred her, making her roll her shoulders and curl her toes.

What an unusual feeling.

A feeling that increased exponentially as he suddenly rose and stepped closer, out of the shadows and deeper into the still dim room, his passage making the dust motes dance and swirl.

Sansa clenched her back teeth together and closed her eyes to try and regain her equilibrium and when she opened them again he was right in before her, hunkered down next to the cot.

Even hunched down as he was she could tell that he was an exceptionally large man. She could feel heat pouring off of him, even though he was still an acceptable distance from her, where such a phenomenon should not be possible and with the searing body heat came that disturbing and almost choking smell... a smell that was more than some stench. It was visceral and it entangled all of her senses, calling to some buried and baser part of her.

She tried to tear her mind away from it, it was off-putting but so foreignly alluring, and tried to focus on the man in front of her.

He looked like a mountain man or a lumberjack. All overgrown hair and ingrained dirt.

He was very tall... she had already gauged that... but muscular too, disconcertingly so. His hair was long and black as pitch, pulled haphazardly to one side to cover extensive and quite monstrous scars. She ignored those, it was rude to stare. Instead, she observed the high cheekbones and slightly hooked nose, the only things prominent in a face covered in hair. His beard was bushy and unkempt, his eyebrows (or rather, eyebrow) heavy. His eyes were compelling. On first glance, innocuous in plain stone grey but on closer inspection deep and expressive... intense.

He was wearing a singlet that may very well have once been white, but was now threadbare and a dull aged grey, that did nothing to cover his massive shoulders and bulging chest, where the thick dark hair continued to flourish.

Her eyes roamed over him slowly and then trekked back up to his scars, which she quickly looked away from. It was rude to stare.

She looked down at her hands which she had unconsciously clasped tightly in her lap.

They had not spoken yet and the silence dragged.

"Hungry." He grunted suddenly, gruffly cutting though the heavy air.

Her eyes whipped back up to his, her brow furrowed.

He huffed. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh... " She whispered before clearing her throat, still tight and slick with that strange odour. "No.. thank you."

He sniffed and stood abruptly. He turned from her and stomped over to the door.

"You'll eat." He growled. "Then I'll walk you out."

He pushed his way out of the little room without a backwards look.

The door opened directly to the outdoors... snow had settled in patches on the ground at some stage but she could not feel a blast of cold air as she was expecting. She was comfortably warm.

She touched her toes to the floor, still encased in her dirty thermal socks and stood slowly from the cot anticipating a wave of dizziness or nausea. Neither made an appearance. She felt good. She felt too good. She took an experimental step. She felt strong.

She looked down at herself to check over her apparel... just checking to see if she was respectably clothed but he... Clegane... had only removed her shoes and pack. Her stuff was filthy, blood stained and torn but covered her well. She walked out of the room and out into the sunlight and fresh air.

She looked around with squinted eyes for a moment. It was so bright and clear out here. Everything seemed sharp and in focus and a wealth of natural fragrances assaulted her suddenly. The sun was warm, the ground moist and soft, she could feel the moisture rising through her socks but she didn't mind. She felt like shaking herself like a dog would and stretching out on the ground to roll and sun herself. She turned on the spot to take it all in. 

The 'room' she had just alighted from was in fact a whole cabin... a very small, single roomed one built from rough sawn logs and corrugated iron. There was an outhouse some way back, nestled discretely amongst some bushes. Her pack was leaning against the wall of the cabin with her tramping boots neatly beside it.

The cabin was isolated. She could tell that from the lack of any sound other than bird song, a soft breeze whispering through the leaves and Clegane shuffling around over by a tree. It was surrounded by trees. The little clearing had trampled down grass, a small outdoor stove made from rocks and an untidy wood pile and that was it.

She turned to her host and saviour. He was hacking at the carcass of an animal of some kind, a deer or goat or something, hanging from a long chain and hook from the overhanging branches of the tree he was under.

"Umm.. sorry... I'm a vegetarian." She called awkwardly over to him.

She heard him snort and mutter something under his breath before he turned, holding a hunk of raw meat in his hand. He stomped to the stove and dropped the meat onto the griddle, sending up smoke and filling the air with a sizzling sound.

"You'll eat" He rumbled, without looking at her, all of his attention on the cooking meat. 

"But..." 

"You can't walk out on watercress and pine needle tea." He snapped, poking at the meat. She thought she heard him mutter the word stupid as well.

He slammed a tin jug of water on the griddle, slopping the water inside over the rim and sending an angry hissing cloud of steam into the sky as the liquid hit the coals.

Sansa sealed her lips and looked at her socks which were now thoroughly soaked. She didn't mind too much, it wasn't cold. She nibbled on her bottom lip and watched him for a moment in silence.

"Can I ask how long I've been here?" She said softly as the silence stretched much too long for her comfort.

He grunted and stabbed at the meat aggressively. "Since yesterday morning."

WHAT!?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding this note to everything at the moment.  
> I am considering a Beta for the stuff I plan to post.  
> I have no idea what a Beta does. I guess I just want someone to bounce idea off and maybe ignore when they offer their own. to proof and whatever. I don't know. A cheering section?  
> I don't play well with others, and I may simply drop off the planet without warning, so if I do recruit, the lucky person will need to be thick skinned and realise that 'no contact' is not personal.  
> Not really sure what I want... anyhooooo... ?


	3. Leaving a Trace

She had screamed once as the bone in her forearm reset itself.

He had carefully picked up her broken body from where it had lain, limbs akimbo and at the wrong angles. He had carried her, cradled to his chest as one would hold the center of their whole world... a treasured loved one or a small, vulnerable child. She was neither of those but she would be the former... eventually, she had no choice.

He trudged back the way he had come before he had caught her scent. He found the game trail he had been following... that particular prey had been given a reprieve for a while longer at least, and turned towards his secluded little home.

As he walked, he cast little fleeting and guilty looks down at his new companion; catching flashes of deep vivid blue as her eyelids fluttered, admiring the way her burnished auburn hair sparked like a living flame in the morning sunlight and the way her pale ivory skin smoothed itself over the contours of her perfect cheekbones and high aristocratic brow.

He was distracted by her scent. As his own filthy, cursed blood coursed its way through her young nubile body, tainting its purity even as it closed her open weeping wounds, he was overwhelmed by her natural fragrance. Not the man-made perfume that imitated forget-me-nots in a very sterile and chemical way, but rather her own illicit musk... the thing that ordinary people could not begin to fathom. He could tell she was close to the time in her cycle when she would be ripe... the clean blood on her skin was a klaxon announcing to him that she could soon whelp his young... He should take her then... take her as his mate.

And he would... Then... He had no choice.

Now though, he should see to her comfort, watch over her, aid her in any way he could. He was no animal. He could be hospitable... in a fashion.

He had not seen a single soul for years except at a distance, while hidden amongst the undergrowth. He certainly hadn't interacted with anyone on even the most marginal of social levels, not since his brother... But how hard could it be?

He finally came to the clearing that housed his little cabin just as his blood saw fit to repair her ribs. She didn't awaken and he was thankful that she was spared the ordeal. The crunching and popping sounds that issued from deep within her torso made even he cringe, and she began to jerk about in his arms making him frightened of dropping her. He held her tightly but carefully as he hurried towards his home. He kicked in the door and rushed to lay her down upon his narrow cot.

He stumbled back from her as her body heaved and seized, his eyes wide as her body contorted, her back arching off the blankets and a horrid grinding sound came from the delicate bones in her spine as they aligned themselves. His back hit the wall and he slid down it into his haunches, running his wide hands over his face.

It was okay, she wasn't awake... she didn't feel it, it would be over soon... She would be fine... She would his.

In the mean time... it was pure, interminable torture.

Her body seemed to have completed most of the repairs by sundown. He sat and watched her still form, forgetting to eat... forgetting to move or even breathe.

It was close to midnight when finally he crept forwards, kneeling by the bedside to look her over. She looked at peace, her brow smooth of the lines that creased it not long before. He brushed back her glorious fiery hair and straightened her clothes, pulling her polypropylene top down over her flat midriff. He cursed softly as he wrangled with her bootlaces... the woman certainly knew how to tie a knot... his thick, blunt fingers found the task a challenge, but he eventually eased the top-of-the-line boots off her little feet.

He took the boots outside and saw her backpack laying by the edge of the clearing... he must have dropped it in his haste to get her inside. He placed the boots and her retrieved pack tidily by the door and went back inside to her, closing the door softly behind him.

She had started to move about, most likely dreaming, she had naught but bruises and scratches to heal. He sat back against the wall and watched her.

She suddenly shot upright with a cry, the air screaming from her lungs only to be dragged back in again. Her eyes popped wide and her hand flew to her chest. she searched the room frantically though her was unsure what she was looking for in the dim light. Her face turned to her arm and she ran her fingers over the bloody tear in the sleeve.

She knew that something was wrong.

She made to stand.

"You shouldn't move yet." he growled... she really shouldn't.

Her head whipped around and she narrowed her dazzling blue eyes to slits as she tried to penetrate the shadows shrouding him.

"Who's there?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper and the scent of fear began to roll off her.

"Found you..." He grated softly "Healed you..."

"I... ah..." The woman stuttered and shifted uncomfortably on the cot. "ahh... Thank you, sir, for helping me. Where am I and may I have your name so I know to whom I am indebted?"

He grunted softly to himself... polite wee thing, all things considered... Posh too by the sounds of it.

"Clegane's my name." He rumbled, "But I don't need your thanks or your sirs."

She was squinting into the darkness trying to make him out. He grunted again and slid forwards into the weak light filtering through the filth on the window, giving her some point of reference.

"You're in my home... my bed..." He continued, "about half days walk from where I found you."

She was staring. It was making him uncomfortable.

"You should sleep some more." He said, leaning back abruptly and hiding in the comforting dark once more. "Sun-up's still a couple of hours away."

She stared some more, making no move to lay down again. He pressed himself back against the wall some more, feeling a sharp stab of a jutting nail in his back.

'Please stop looking at me' he pleaded silently.

She slowly... Very slowly, laid her head back down on his cot, her eyes still fixed on his darkened spot. They were such an intense shade of blue that he imagined that maybe she was not real... with her shining auburn hair and porcelain skin and eyes like the cloudless summer sky...

Maybe he had fallen and she was some kind of angel.

Maybe he was delirious in a ditch... and that damned goat he had been tracking had got the better of him.. Bastard Goat!

When he looked to her again, her radiant eyes were closed and she had fallen back to sleep... thank the Gods.

He kept his vigil throughout the night, watching her bruises fade and the cuts closed and heal to flawless skin.

And then the change began.

Her scent shifted and a growl built in his chest as it hit him full force. He couldn't help himself. He eased forwards, crossing the room without his conscious mind intact... instinct took over him. The growl died to a low hum and a whimper as he knelt beside her. His mouth filled with saliva and his teeth became sharp as the scent of her surrounded him. His Mate. He buried his face just below her ear, the artery pulsed beneath her skin, and dragged it in. His body shook as it filled his sinuses, making his head spin and his groin stir.

'Soon.' He howled in his mind. 'Soon.'

By the time she woke again, he had pulled himself together

He'd left the cabin at first light and let the cold, snow laden, morning air scour his lungs. He'd had a wank. A really quick wank. He'd not been with a woman in years, so it was not surprising that he'd spilled so ridiculously fast.

He'd stalked the perimeter of the clearing, taking in the sounds and smells of the forest. She was still there... tugging at his senses, but he was in control again when he wandered back into the cabin and took up his post again.

It didn't take long for her to awaken once the sun was up, the bright beams fell on her face, setting her brilliant hair alight... or so it seemed.

Her eyes fluttered behind her long lashes and the fought to hold onto the dark, but to no avail... it was a glorious late Autumn morning.

She grumbled and lifted her hand to cover her face only to gasp and fly upright again.

She examined herself, clutching at her body, feeling for aches and pains that she no longer had, for wounds that not only had healed but had left no scars.

Her eyes lifted and zeroed in on his corner of the room, though still dark, to her new eyes it was as clear as full noon light in here. There was no hiding now.

Her lips parted and she inhaled to speak.

She gasped and her eyes opened wide as the pheromones he was emitting smacked into her. Her eyes flashed golden and she gulped him in.

He was on his feet and stepping into towards her without a thought. He squatted down beside her, so desperate to touch her but knowing in the part of his mind that was still rational that it was not the time... soon...

He could see by the expression on her face that she was fighting against her instincts, her eyes crept over him like a caress. She did not even blink at his scars as she scanned over him, though she dropped her gaze to her lap where her delicate fingers were twisting and wringing with anxiety.

She was scared, she had no idea what had happened. He needed to help her understand, to guide her, put her a ease and make the transition as painless as possible.

"Hungry." he grunted.

Smooth, Sandor. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed and her wide eyes confused.

He huffed, frustrated with himself. "Are you hungry?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Oh, no thank you"

Bullshit. Her new metabolism would be screaming at her by now.

"You'll eat." He growled, "Then I'll walk you out."

He stomped from the cabin, he couldn't be that damned close to her, his body wouldn't stop reacting to her and it was making him peevish. He didn't operate well on Peevish.

He glared around his clearing, lightly dusted with settled snow that set the morning sunlight glaring right back at him. He had to get the taste of her out of the back of his throat and sate another type of hunger instead. After a cleansing breath, he uncovered and stoked the banked coals on his cook fire and threw a log on the top, the brittle, dry wood caught alight almost immediately and he stomped across the cold ground to the deer carcass that he'd had hanging for a couple of days. He inhaled deeply, covering the tantalising flavours of the lady with the feral tang of raw meat. He tried to ignore the sound of her stepping lightly from the cabin by picking up his butchers knife and hacking at the venison in front of him with little care. Even from so far away he could hear her breathing, the hum of pleasure as she took in the fragrance of the forest that surrounded them, the soft even thud of her heart pushing her blood through her body... mingled with his blood.

He knew she'd be feeling things differently. He wasn't sure how much differently, not having the same perspective as she. He knew that her kind (her former kind) were different, but he had never experienced both. He was a legacy, this was all he had known. He might have to teach her.

Her soft sweet voice interrupted his thoughts

"Umm.. sorry... I'm a vegetarian." She called.

He snorted... "Not anymore". He muttered with a smirk.

He tore a chunk of flesh from the carcass and turned to her, brandishing the dripping offering. He walked to the cook fire and dropped the cut on the griddle.

"You'll eat."

"But..."

"You can't walk out on watercress and pine needle tea." He glared at her for a moment to make his point "Stupid little whelp." He muttered under his breath, stabbing at the cooking meat. He sighed and took up the jug of drinking water, it had a thin sheen of ice on the top which shattered as he slammed it onto the griddle. Pine Needle Fucking Tea!

She was quiet for a moment and he could feel her eyes boring into him, he shifted uncomfortably. He dug out the fixings for the tea and stabbed at the meat again to try and look busy.

"Can I ask how long I've been here?" She said softly.

He grunted and gritted his teeth. He couldn't lie to her.

"Since yesterday morning."

He heard her gasp and he yanked his eyes to hers as she appeared by his side and took hold of his arm, trying to turn him towards her. She was only partially successful.

"What do you mean 'yesterday'?" She squawked at him. "I fell off a cliff yesterday, I broke my arm.. I know I did." She shook the offending limb at him. "How did my BROKEN ARM magically heal itself overnight?"

"Does it matter?" He snarled down at her. "You're better, aren't you?"

"Yes, it matters!" She bellowed, her eyes flashed gold.

Feisty, he thought. He guessed the rumours about red heads and their tempers were true.

He found himself smirking at her. She was breathing heavily but trying hard not to. She stumbled back from him, trying to get away from his scent, no doubt. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, there was no way she was feeling the cold.

She watched him warily for a moment before she spoke, her bottom lip trembling. "What did you do to me?" She whimpered.

A rumbling growl grew in his chest as he lumbered towards her, scaring her enough for her to step back quickly and trip over her own feet. He grabbed her by her upper arms to stop her from tumbling over but didn't release her, instead pulling her closer and shaking her lightly .

"I saved you." He barked, his nostrils flaring as they filled with her pheromones and fear. "I saved your gods damned life."

"What did you do?" She pleaded weakly, trying to pull out of his grasp. "How...? I don't understand?" She shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

Both of their respective bloods were up, the air between them was thick with tension and musk. Their now shared nature dictated that they fight... or fuck. But she didn't know and he had more control than most. At least, that was what he thought before she suddenly whipped from his hold and scrambled away from him, her eyes wide and no longer scared... now she was terrified.

"Whats wrong with your eyes?" She shrieked. "What are you?"

Fuck! He needed to calm down. He took a slow step towards her, his hand out in a conciliatory manner.

She backed away from his hand with a shrill yelp, her back hitting a tree trunk which seemed to send her into a panic. Her own deep blue eyes flashed gold and she was gone. Her feet carrying her faster than even she was aware. She burst through the undergrowth and fled. She ran like the Big Bad Wolf was on her heels.

In a way... He was.


	4. Stalking the Game

He'd been so close to her. Holding her much too close. The air had been thick with him. He encompassed her, encroached on her. The hair on her arms had stood up and her blood began to surge through her veins. Her mouth had begun to fill with saliva and she felt that she would begin to drool. Moisture had also started to pool at the juncture of her thighs. Heat coalesced in her lower belly and she felt the need to growl in her chest. All of the muscles and tendons throughout her entire body became taut with vibrating tension.

She wanted to leap at him... take his meaty throat in between her teeth and bite down... feel his thick, rich, hot blood pour over her. 

She wanted to leap at him... hold him to the cold hard ground and ride him until she howled out her completion.

She was torn, conflicted, confused and frightened...

And then his eyes had changed. They were grey, like the eternal stone of the mountains around them. Steadfast and dark. She had stared into them, lost herself in them. And then they had changed. They flashed a brilliant yellow and his deep black pupils had changed shape and blown wide. They were the eyes of an animal. A dangerous beast.

He wasn't normal. He was a monster.

She ran.

She somehow managed to wrench free of his strong grasp and bolted. Fast. Faster than she had ever run in her entire life... faster than she should have ever been able to run. Her wet socked feet touched down lightly between the many jutting hazards of the forest floor and she all but flew between the dense tree trunks, her flaming hair flying behind her like a banner and lighting her up like a beacon.

Sights, sounds, smells and sensations hit her like a freight train as she moved effortlessly on her path. She could see everything... each individual leaf, every blade of grass and pebble came into clear focus. She could hear and feel everything... the rustle of the leaves as a breeze that a normal person couldn't feel passed them by, they were vibrations against her skin... she vaguely thought that she heard heartbeats and footsteps, the tiny pitter-patters of woodland critters as they scampered in amongst the branches or scattered in the wake of her rapid passage. 

She would have appreciated each experience, if she hadn't been scared out of her mind. 

Because above all of that, she could hear and feel HIM. She could smell him, still assaulting her olfactory receptors.

She snarled and then sobbed because she had never made such a sound before. She knew he was close by. As fast as she was moving, he was faster, belying the stealth and speed of his seemingly cumbersome size. 

She doubled her efforts, she found another gear and began to duck and weave her way through the foliage. She could leap over fallen debris, logs and boulders as if they were not there at all. She had no idea where she was going, her feet took her, guiding her away. Fight or Flight?

Her 'normal' nature said flight. She snarled again. That wasn't right... She shouldn't be fleeing... she should rip him to shreds, tear the quivering flesh from his bones.

She whimpered and shook her head... her steps faltering as she shied from the alien thoughts circling in her brain against her will. Run, you silly girl. Run from the monster. 

No, kill him. He's no alpha. He has no pack. He's alone...

She screamed and slid to a jarring stop. Her eyes wide and her mouth lax in terror as a giant black creature swooped into her path. Her breath gushed from her lungs as she lost her footing and landed hard on her bum in a skid. She skittered backwards on her hands, away from the enormous beast, almost gibbering in fear until her back hit a thick tree trunk halting her movement and stunning her with the impact. The monster did nothing but crouch down in her previous trajectory and watch her; his shaggy, scarred head low and brilliant yellow eyes keen.

Sansa Stark froze as she drew in a deep stuttering breath. That was HIS smell. Cleganes pungent and diverting scent was all over this animal.

Was that Him? 

She swallowed thickly as she stared at 'it'. It was scarred the same way as Clegane was; Tight, pink whorls of puckered flesh along the side of the beasts face, from its thick neck, along its muzzle and passed its gleaming yellow eye. It's right ear was a twisted stump even as it pricked forwards along with its intact mate.

That was him?! Somehow...

He wasn't blinking. He watched her from his haunches the same way he had as she had awoken in his cabin. She couldn't look away. She was too scared to look away. If she looked away he would pounce, he would be on her in a heartbeat if she let her focus shift.

But she was small and agile... she had just proven that, and near tireless. If she could get to her feet fast enough she could bound into the undergrowth... If she could evade him long enough she could get back to her rental car sitting in the lonely gravel parking lot at the entrance the valley. She could move much faster now than she could before... she wouldn't be stopping to take photos, she felt that she wouldn't need to sleep anytime soon and the path along the valley floor was much shorter than the mountainous way to the Gods Eye...

She shifted slightly to her right and the creature Clegane issued a low growl from deep in his massive chest, the hackles on the back of his neck stood up and he dipped lower to the ground. His bushy tail flicked in warning. 'Do Not Move.' He seemed to say.

Sansa stilled and settled back onto her bum. She stared.

He was a wolf.... but not a wolf. He was much too large, almost as big as a stallion. His body was covered in thick shaggy black fur and his large brilliant yellow eyes held much more intelligence than any regular canine. They followed her every slight move, from the rise and fall of her panting breath to the flutter of the quickened pulse at her throat. And the scars mirrored Cleganes human ones, though stretched and distorted by the new shape of his head and his elongated muzzle.

As she gaped at him, he settled onto his belly, his black clawed paws extended before him on the loam forest floor. He lay his giant head on his paws and blinked for the first time. A plaintive whine came from him and he tilted his head to the side.

He tentatively crawled an inch forwards.

And she was off again. 

Sansa bolted to her feet and flew into the foliage like a terrified hare.

The wolf gave a growling bark and he was off like a shot after her and his four paws clawing at the dirt, trumped her sopping socked human feet. 

She didn't get far.

He butted her with his head in the small of her back and sent her hurtling forwards into a heap of wet and rotting fallen leaves. She cried out as her knee hit a buried rock and grunted as the air exited her lungs in a rush. She scrambled in the muck with her fingernails digging into the sod before rolling and twisting quickly onto her back and into the face of the giant black beast. His snarling maw only a breath from her face. He loomed over her, his long sharp teeth gnashing along with the deep growling reverberating through his body. She shrunk back into the moist ground as far as she could and screwed her eyes shut waiting for those razor-like teeth to sink into her flesh and tear away her life.

She felt the change as it happened.

His weight shifted, the thick fur stopped brushing against her skin and the vicious snarling receded to a very human sounding growl.

Sansa felt a heavy, though human, weight settle on her lower body and cracked open an eyelid. Clegane was atop of her. The 'Man' Clegane.

His fists were on either side of her shoulders, digging into the muck and he held his body above her in a very intimate fashion, his knees dug in on the outside of her hips and his feet hooked over her shins.

And he was naked.

"Stop running." He growled, his breath hot against her lips.

She turned her head away and whimpered.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He snapped, sitting up abruptly. His bum pressed into her thighs but he took his, not inconsiderable, weight through his knees.

Sansa blinked up at him for moment before she began to try and squirm out from under him. Clegane slammed her back into the dirt, taking both of her wrists and holding her fast. His twisted face loomed over her, his eyes blazing in their alien yellow and she began to cry, lying still and defeated on her back.

"Please stop." Clegane whispered hoarsely, his eyes dampening back into their more placid grey. "Please..."

He released her wrists hesitantly, waiting for her to fight some more, but she just lay there, sobbing with her face scrunched up and eyes screwed up tight. Fat tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and dampened the hair at her temples.

He slowly crawled from atop her body and sat heavily in the mushy ground, his head hanging low and his dark lank hair draping his head like a curtain.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said again, this time in a broken rasping whisper.

The two of them remained where they were for some time; Sansa sniffling in fright and Clegane in silence, his head cradled in his muscular arms.

Sansa eventually quieted. She opened her eyes and stared up at the canopy of branches above her and drew in a deep shuddering breath. her senses were again assaulted by an overdose of scents, some that she couldn't identify and some now worriingly familiar.

"What did you do?" She spoke softly, almost absently, her much keener eyes following the path of a spider spinning a web far above her.

"I saved you." He muttered from inside the cavern of his arms. "You were as good as dead when I found you."

"Did you change me?" She asked. The spider had finished the spokes of her web and was working on joining them.

Clegane was quiet and she knew the answer before he uttered another word.

"Yes." It was a just a breath of an answer, if her hearing hadn't been enhanced she would never have never heard him.

Sansa closed her eyes and reveled in the temporary darkness and the solitude it bought. She couldn't forget he was there, even if she held her breath and didn't take in his scent. She could hear his huffing breathing, the deep regular thud of his heart, she even fancied that she could hear the blood surging through his veins, the whisper of the infinitesimal breeze as it passed by his giant body.

Her stomach suddenly gurgled loudly and her eyes flashed open again. 

She was very hungry. It came on her like an avalanche. The ache of her empty tummy. Her eyes sought and found a slight movement high in the trees. A small bird flitting from leaf to leaf. Her tummy rumbled again and she sat up slowly, her eyes trained on the tiny morsel.

Cleganes head came up and his eyes fixed on her as she tracked the bird, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Too small for the effort." He grunted. "You went through the change and have run for miles. You need a proper feed."

Her golden eyes slid to his.

"I can help." He spoke softly as he got smoothly to this feet.

Sansa averted her eyes quickly as he stood before her.

He looked down at himself and his cheeks coloured.

Fuck!

He cupped a hand over his cock and balls and held out his free hand to her as her stomach rumbled once again.

"We need to go back and feed you." He rasped. "I'll explain what happened, what I did..."

Sansa looked at his hand as it hovered just in front of her. Her eyes flicked up to his face and then back at his hand.

She reached out tentatively, her delicate fingers brushing his palm lightly, sending a pulse of electric heat through her whole body. Her nostrils flared as she breathed him in and took firm hold of his hand and allowed herself to be lifted effortlessly from the ground.

She fought the urge to lick his hairy chest as it dominated her eyeline.

He stepped back from her and turned, adjuring her with a gentle tug to follow him. She pulled back, removing her hand from his. 

He looked back urgently thinking she was going to bolt again but she merely took hold of the hem of her blue polypropylene top and slipped it up over her head and held it out to him. He stared at her open mouthed for a moment as she stood before him in a tiny black sports bra before his eyes dropped to the scrap of fabric in her hand.

He took it from her and wrapped it around his hips as best he could before reaching for her hand again.

She took it.


End file.
